I hear the alarm buzz. I stretch my body as the bed squeaks against the spring.
I get up and slowly walk out. The floorboards creaking with each step.
The cold wood hit against the soft soles of my feet. I am safe.

I can hear mother’s breath through her bedroom, loud like the ocean crashing yet soothing like still water.
I make my way to the kitchen – the faucet drips.
The sound of water hitting the steel sink, the humming of the fridge, the sporadic noise from the walls, these are the sounds of my comfort.

Here I know I am home and I am Safe.
I Keep within these boundaries and stay put…

The child looks up at his mother.
He slowly peels away
Carefully steps back. One Step. Two steps. Three steps.

Fly my love, shouts the mother. Fly now.

Mother will I be ok?

Go. Tears fill the mothers eyes. Explore.

You cannot stay forever consumed by fear.
You cannot be held back constrained by safety.
You must make mistakes.
It means you are living, my child.

The child at a far distance asks again,
Mother will I be safe?

I don’t know.
But you won’t be safe if you close the door, locked up tight.
Truth be told I cannot tell the difference between the safe and the dead.

I will go now. I will visit the new, the strange, and the uncertain.
The child vanishes only leaving footsteps behind.